


Six Gallons of Milk

by Muffinworry



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, Vimes Night Watch AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 08:36:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12813747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muffinworry/pseuds/Muffinworry
Summary: Two years after the death of Sergeant Keel, young Vimes is doing the best he can





	Six Gallons of Milk

The shop door bangs open and a whirlwind rushes in.

“I say! You there, d’ye sell milk? I need six gallons.”

Sam straightens up behind the counter and looks at her closely, the way Sergeant Keel taught him. Short hair, wide eyes, firm chin. Posh clothes, frayed at the elbows and charred at the cuffs. Impatience – no – _worry_ – radiating from her.

“Milk!” snaps the girl, and Sam fights the urge to automatically obey the aristocratic tones.

“I heard you,” he says, trying to make his voice as calm as the sergeant’s. It’s been two years since Treacle Mine Road. Two years since the mob and the soldiers and blood on the lilacs. Two years of hanging on, trying to make whatever small difference he could while the city went to hell. With the Watch in disgrace, his sergeant murdered, his mother fretting, and his pay slashed, Sam is making ends meet helping out in the shop once a week.

Sam is twenty, now, broader in the shoulders and a little smarter, and a lot more cynical. Still too quick to rush in with his opinion. His new captain and his mother both scold him for it. He wipes his hands and goes to fetch up four large jugs from the cool cellar.

She’s still there, looking around anxiously as though she wasn’t sure he’d come back. He realizes with some irritation that he doesn’t want to let her down. He sets the jugs on the counter. There’s a story here. Rich girl, on her own? Around here? Sam has no patience with riddles.

“I don’t have six gallons,” he tells her. “You can have the last four though. Eighty pence.”

The girl starts to pick up the milk, then looks at him. “Oh,” she says, awkwardly, a blush rising over her broad cheeks. “I – I don’t have any money. Daddy usually just has it delivered.”

“Miss,” says Sam, exasperated. “You can _have_ the milk, but why? What does a lady like you want with six gallons?”

“For the protest, of course,” she says fiercely. “You know what Snapcase has been doing to our people? He got the artificiers to mix him up some noxious powders. The palace guard lights them and throws them into the crowd.”

Sam heaves a breath. The girl rushes on.

“They hit old ladies with it. Little children. If you get it in your eyes, you’re blind for hours. Washing with water doesn’t work. The only thing that works is –”

“Milk,” finishes Sam, heavily.

“Well?” she says, glaring at him. “I suppose now you’re going to tell me to go home like a good girl? Stay in my room? Ignore the _unpleasantness_?”

“I was going to say, come back tomorrow and I’ll have the other two jugs waiting.”

She looks straight at him for a long moment – she’s almost as tall as him. Then she smiles like a sunrise, gathers the milk in sturdy arms, and turns to go. Sam catches a glimpse of well-worn boots under her long ruffled skirts, and grins.

The girl pauses in the doorway at the sounds of distant shouting and glass breaking.

“Miss, the streets ain’t safe right now. Let me walk you home.”

She hesitates. Nods. Hands him two of the jugs. They step out into the street and Sam locks up the shop. He takes a deep breath of the city air and, coughing slightly, feels himself back in his natural habitat. The girl beside him is bright-eyed and determined and fearless.

“It’s simply wonderful of you, Mr. - ?”

“Not ‘Mister’,” says Sam. “I haven’t earned Mister. Call me Sam.”

“Sybil.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "six gallons of milk" from the lovely TMOHZone


End file.
